Suffer Not the Unclean to Live

“Pinkie Piiiiiiiiiiie!”
Hell on earth. The village of Ponyville was consumed in roiling clouds of flame. Long tongues of pitch black smoke licked into the sky, signalling the doom of this quaint settlement. Pinkie Pie turned her head towards the call of her name. It was coming from Sugarcube corner, the only structure not currently levelled or burning, there stood Mr. and Mrs. Cake. They stood in the door beckoning her urgently. Pinkie Pie shot like a bullet from a rifle, running into the store, just before Mr. Pie shut the door and started to secure it with anything he could find, Pinkie Pie caught a glimpse of the things responsible for this unprovoked attack. Their bulky armoured forms were deep blood red, and their eyes had a ghastly green glow to them. They walked not on four hooves, no, they balanced on their hind legs. Their front hooves sported long appendages in which they grasped strange death spitting weapons. The ear-splitting booms of which invariably led to another pony popping into a shower of gore. Some held weapons which belched fire, and set about meticulously setting the buildings alight, after clearing the inside of any pony they could find.
“Quickly dearie!” Mrs. Cake whispered in hushed tone, as she lifted a carefully hidden trap door in the floor of the store. She lifted her two mares carefully down. “In here!” Pinkie did not need to be told twice, she hurriedly jumped in. “Sweetums! Hurry!” Mrs. Cake hissed to her husband.
“N-no.” Mr. Cake said, stomping his hoof. “I’ll stay here, and try and lead them off.” He said, his voice cracking. He could not bare to look his wife in the eye, a tear rolled down his face.
“Carrot…”
“Shush! Hide! Go! I’ll be fine.” Pinkie Pie had to pull Mrs. Cake down into the hiding place. Tears streamed down her face, as she put her hooves over her mouth to muffle her sobs.
“Whatever you do sweet cake…” Mr. Cake said as he turned towards the door. A huge pounding could be heard on the other side. “Keep our children safe. I love you.”
The door splintered into a million pieces.

Brother Amitiel followed his brothers through the village. He took aim at an
obnoxiously pink xenos sitting dumfounded in the center of the street. As he squeezed the trigger it perked up, and shot away, unaware of how close it had just come to death, and sprinted into an equally obnoxious building of less than reasonable proportions. Truly the debasement of these xenos knew no limits. Around him, his brothers busied themselves with the extermination of the xenos that still walked –or rather panicked—in the open.
“Brother Amitiel! Take the Brother Phul and purge the xenos from their hiding place!” Sergeant Adonael barked.
“Hunt and destroy. Yes brother!” Amitiel replied, his voice doggedly eager. Amitiel took his brother to the building that the pink xenos sought shelter in. He began to knock on the door. It did not take too long before the flimsy wooden thing shattered. Amitiel caught a glance of a gangly cream coloured xeno, the unmistakeable weakness of fear broadcast in the look upon his eyes. “They cower inside brother.”
“Not for long…” said Brother Phul, Amitiel could almost feel the sinister smile on his brother’s helmeted face. Phul effortlessly smashed his way through the weakling xenos wall, into the structure.
The lone xenos stood there awaiting him. Amitiel had to give it some credit, not many in his long life had stood before him in defiance, especially on the field of battle. The xenos held a broom in its mouth, hoping to ward them off. It mumbled words of warning.
“Stay away y-you monsters!” It waved the broom in their direction. Paying no mind Phul approached and nonchalantly in a single fluid motion backhanded the xenos with his gauntleted fist, caving in its skull and sending it flying through the wall. Another dead xeno was all well and good by Amitiel and Phul, but they both saw the PINK xeno flee inside. They began their search. Amitiel had his attention drawn to yet another obnoxiously coloured object on a counter, one of many baked confections on display. It seemed quite appetising. With slow deliberation he set down his holy bolter and removed his helm. He grabbed the sweet, positively miniscule by comparison to his great armoured hand. He sniffed it. Confident it wasn’t inherently dangerous he licked the top. A splash of unknown flavour flooded into his tongue. The Astartes reeled back in surprise.
“By the Emperor…” he whispered to himself.
“Careful brother…” Phul warned. “Do not dabble in xenos cuisine.”
“But Phul, this is delicious!”
Thanks! I made them myself!” The Pink xeno leapt from a door in the floor.
“IcanmakeyousomemoreifyouwantIknowyoureallyreallyreallyreallreallydontseemtolikeusbuttheresnothingthatcantbesolvedbycupcakessaidmygreatauntsallytwiceremovedwellshedidntreallysaythatbutitsreallyfuntosayshedid, hey, do you know what else is fun—“
“THEY ARE IN THE FLOOR BOARDS!”
“PUUUUUUUUUUUURGE!”
The two Marines fired the entirety of their bolter magazines into the floors of the building…